Secrets Behind The Mask
841 Words
The air in the conservatory was warm and scented with orchids, but Ava felt cold.
She sat curled on one of the velvet benches, staring at the koi pond, mind reeling from what she’d overheard the night before. The words had burned into her memory.
> “If your wife talks…”
“She won’t. Ava’s compliance is secured.”
“The inheritance clause activates in ninety days…”
He needed her. Not just for appearances, but to retain control of his empire.
So that’s what I am to him, she thought bitterly. A shield. A loophole.
Her fingers dug into her arms, nails leaving crescent moons behind. How had she ended up here? Her entire life repackaged into a business transaction?
“Ava?”
She flinched. Elise stood at the edge of the greenhouse, clipboard in hand.
“Sorry to interrupt. Mr. Blackwood asked that you prepare for a charity dinner tonight.”
“Another one?”
“This one’s smaller. Close business friends and family. It’s being held here.”
“Of course it is,” Ava muttered.
Elise hesitated, then lowered her voice. “I know this isn’t easy. I’ve worked here a long time. You’re the first person he’s ever let this close.”
Ava raised an eyebrow. “This close? He hardly speaks to me.”
“He didn’t even bring his real fiancée to the house,” Elise whispered, then turned and walked away before Ava could respond.
His real fiancée?
---
Later that evening, the ballroom buzzed with soft classical music and well-dressed strangers. Ava wore a midnight-blue gown, floor-length with a slit that made her feel bold and exposed all at once.
Jace was dressed in black-on-black — sharp, sleek, and unreadable as ever. He stood beside her like a statue, greeting guests with effortless charm.
Ava played her part—smiling, nodding, laughing softly at boring jokes. But her mind was elsewhere.
“You’re doing well,” Jace murmured under his breath, lips close to her ear.
“Is this part of the rehearsal?” she asked.
“It’s not just about pretending,” he replied. “It’s about presentation. You represent me now.”
“I’m not a handbag, Jace.”
He almost smiled. “You’re a hurricane. And sometimes, that’s more dangerous.”
She didn’t get a chance to respond. A woman in red approached, elegant and tall, her smile tight and eyes cold.
“Sylvia,” Jace said, tone neutral. “This is my wife, Ava.”
Sylvia extended a hand, her diamond ring nearly blinding. “Wife. What an interesting choice of words.”
“Nice to meet you,” Ava said calmly.
“I was just surprised, that’s all,” Sylvia continued, her gaze fixed on Ava’s dress. “You don’t look like his type.”
“Well, he’s not exactly mine either,” Ava said with a sweet smile.
Jace let out the faintest cough—half laugh, half warning.
Sylvia excused herself with a fake chuckle, and Ava turned to Jace. “Was that her? The ‘real’ fiancée?”
His expression hardened. “She was never my fiancée.”
“But you were engaged, weren’t you?”
“No,” he said flatly. “It was arranged. Like us. Only I didn’t sign that contract.”
He moved away before she could dig deeper.
---
After the dinner, Ava wandered into the art gallery wing of the house—another part she hadn’t explored.
Paintings lined the walls. Some abstract, some moody. At the far end was a portrait of a woman in her thirties with a kind smile and soft eyes.
A plaque read: Elena Blackwood – 1968 to 2012.
His mother.
The resemblance was undeniable. Ava stepped closer. Her hands shook slightly.
“You look like her,” a voice said behind her.
Jace.
Ava turned. “You never mentioned your mother.”
“I don’t talk about the past.”
“Why? Because it makes you feel something?”
His jaw tightened. “Because it’s done. Nothing changes it.”
“She seems warm. Different from this house.”
“She was.”
There was a long pause.
“You hate this marriage, don’t you?” he asked suddenly.
“Yes,” Ava said honestly. “But I hate lying to myself more. I’m here. So I might as well stop pretending this is normal.”
He studied her. “You’re brave.”
She frowned. “That sounded almost… genuine.”
“It was,” he admitted. “But don’t get used to it.”
He turned and walked away.
Ava stared at the painting again. Somehow, she felt like Elena Blackwood would’ve liked her.
---
Later that night, Ava couldn’t sleep. She sat on the bed, scrolling through the contract again. On the final page, a section caught her eye.
Clause 17b: Emotional Interference
The parties agree to maintain emotional neutrality and avoid entanglements that might compromise judgment or the integrity of the agreement.
She scoffed. Emotional neutrality?
Too late.
- Writer
